Escape
by Ellstra
Summary: What were Thomas last moments on the front like? And what was it for the German soldier to shoot at him? Using character from All Quiet on the Western Front.


_**This story is a bit of crossover of Downton Abbey and All Quiet on the Western Front. You don´t have to read this book, I just wanted to mention it because it inspired me to write this story. I´m using the main character of this book as well, so unfortunately none of these boys is mine. I hope you like it. Reviews would be very appreciated.**_

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_Paul_

The front hasn´t moved for ages. We´re stuck in this miserable place for months. We´re losing men, just like they do, but there are always some new, fresh, sweet young lads, prepared to die for their country. I find it funny – they are on both sides, on both sides convinced their country is the one which should win, the right one. I know I was the same once, full of enthusiasm and ideals, I believed in justice, I believed I was right, that what people had been telling me had made sense, I believed Germany was the only country which should survive. And I was full of expectation, a bit scared, of course, but proud as well. And now? What has remained?

_Thomas_

I hear another painful scream and I feel I should just lie down, pretend I´m dead and rest, at least for a while. I crawl to the place the shriek sounded and I find a thin, young boy with a big hole in stomach. I see the big pool of blood under his back and it´s still growing in size. I take the bandage and cover his wound, but it´s just to make him feel he´s not left alone in here. I see he has no hope. During the time I spent here I´ve learnt to recognise fatal injuries. And this is one of them. And yet, we have to play this comedy, we have to make these boys experience their worst moments just before their death. It would be better if we just let them die and then took them to bury them in the mass grave. But no, we have to pretend they have a chance, just to pretend this is not nothing but a slaughterhouse. But inside, we all know. All of us here, at the front, realise this is just a coherent idea how to destroy us, how to destroy the whole generation. And not just British – I stopped distinguishing the nations, the sides, because it has no sense – us, us all – Germans, French, Italians, Czechs, Austrians and many others. I stopped trying to figure out who is who – it has no sense now, because we are all just innocent men or sometimes just boys who were said to kill so they kill, who were said to run so they run, who were said to sleep so they sleep. Now I just wait for somebody to say die – and we´ll all die, because we were said so. That´s what they want? A huge mass of men of all nationalities, colours of skin, religions and sexual preferences destroyed and depressed, unable to live, unable to sleep, unable to do anything on their own, because they are afraid what will happen if they do something what wasn´t an order? That´s what they want? Make us their puppets? But who?

_Paul_

Another wave of bombs, mines, guns. At first I was counting it; how many bombings I´ve survived. But very soon I found out I would never know such a high number. So it became just a part of life – eating, guns, sleeping, guns, pissing, guns. And in the middle of it all – death. I would love to forget it, but I can´t. Death is everywhere. I would think I´m used to see it, but I´m not. I want to pretend the war is not here, that it doesn´t exist – but even if I can close my eyes, I will never be able to shut my ears. And if there is not that terrible barking of guns, swish of the mines or howling of grenades, everything´s silent – and that is the worst. Because the weapons are so familiar I´m not afraid of hearing them anymore, now I´m afraid when I don´t hear them because I know they will return. I´m not afraid when the guns fire – I´m too busy with keeping myself alive, with shooting back, crawling, running, hiding. But when silence lies down on the front, that terrible, frightening silence, I lack safety the most. In that silence I realise that what once meant peace and calm is now just a little pause between hells. In that silence my brain starts to work, starts picturing things, starts recalling, starts to desiderate everything I used to have and might have had. And it used to cost me a lot to stop it – because I knew that if I lost in it, if I started to be sentimental, I´d die in a while. ´This is a war,´ Kat used to say, ´there is no place for thinking. You either accept it or die. There is nothing in between.´ I don´t need to hear it again, I´ve found the truth in it myself.

_Thomas_

I grit my teeth and hold the little boy in my arms while I wait for some pause in the firing. Their guns seem to be tireless as if they had tons of bullets and didn´t even have to charge the weapons. As if the men themselves were just machines. Then I look at our side of the front and I see it´s the same. There is so many of men, boys, lads in here that even though many of them fall helplessly to the ground, they are quickly replaced by others. I´m leaning against the edge of the trench and try to overhear the moans of pain I hear. The boy in my arms is slowly losing consciousness and I think it´s better. When I see the hole in his stomach, I know everything would be better if I shot him dead right now. I see the pain in his young, sweet face and I want to go and kill everybody who keeps this war alive. I look into those innocent eyes, which beg me for compassion. I turn my head not to see his pale reproachful face.

_Paul_

Sun is slowly approaching the horizon, shadows grow longer, air is getting colder. Here, in the middle of nowhere, I miss the sun shining through the window of my room back home even more than during the day. But I´ve got used to it. Now I´m empty and tough, my heart has turned into a piece of iron. And yet, I can´t but wait for a little while and enjoy the last bits of sun before it disappears. Soon, I wake up from my day-dreaming and return back to the killing-machine. I´m shooting, running, hiding, crawling again and I have absolutely clear mind. There´s nothing to worry about, not now, not yet.

_Thomas_

The boy finally died. Still in my arms. I feel his body becoming heavier when he turns to a dead torso. I stare at his face, pale, haggard and full of pain. I remember him, not sure why, actually. But I remember him and it´s even worse – I remember his joyous laughter, his scared eyes when he realised this is real, the first tears of him when he understood this is not a game. Almost everybody here cried the first days. Not me. I´ve been through terrible things I wasn´t able to cry over this. As far as I can breathe, I don´t give up and try to live as much as possible. But this boy cried; I recall his blue eyes covered with tears, the painful expression on his face. I fall down on my knees and bury face in my hands. How am I supposed to stand this? So many beautiful, innocent boys and their lives ending right after they had begun. How am I supposed to pretend this has some sense? How am I supposed to shoot, to kill the men on the other side when I know they have the same blue eyes, the same dreams, the same wishes? I can´t.

_Paul_

In the meantime, night has fallen and hidden us in its arms, embracing us in tough hug, taking us under its wings. It will be a cold, chilly night, maybe even with a fog. The firing might stop for a little while, but it doesn´t seem likely. No, today, the night will have only breaks of that terrible, painful silence which always makes me think and fear. I bite my lip, pull my uniform closer to my body even though it doesn´t really help, in fact it´s so soaked with wet, mud and stuff of some dark colour I don´t even want to try to sort out so I´m freezing even more. I´m cold, my teeth are chattering, I don´t even feel fingers clutching the trigger and my brain has frozen as well. I don´t think, I don´t feel, I have got into that state of mind where my body orders my brain and not conversely. So I shoot, no matter if I see the target or not.

_Thomas_

I can´t stand this anymore. It´s unbearable. I´m so frightened, so disgusted by myself I´m just sitting and staring in front of myself. Soon, they´ll come for me and I´ll get told off because of it. But I can´t really move. I´m scared stiff, I´m motionless because I feel I´ll get a bullet right in the middle of my forehead, if I moved only for an inch. I´m rubbing the palms of my hands against my thighs to calm myself down, but it doesn´t work. I´m more and more hysterious – I feel I might start to scream in the very next moment. What shall I do? I can´t stay here, I´m not able to just run here, through the trenches, shoot and pretend I´m not disgusted by this all, by what I´m. By myself.

_Paul_

The night is so dark and thick I almost can´t see anything. The stars are not visible, even though there are usually whole constellations to be seen in here. But the lights of fires of the guns can´t be overlooked. The ground is being torn to pieces, it´s scarred, hurt like we all are but unlike us, it´s going to recover, some day. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in decades, but some day, flowers will grow here again, butterflies will fly all over and nobody would know I had these thoughts in here, because I will be dead, all of us will be dead. Birds will play on our graves, mice building nests in the same places as our trenches stand now. And life will go on. Nobody will care about us, about the lost souls who once had had dreams but now only their animal insticts remained.

_Thomas_

Finally I´m alright enough to light a cigarette. I need it. That´s the worst thing here in the war – I can´t even enjoy a cigarette because every second I´m afraid somebody will see me and shoot me dead. But now, I need it. I stare at the lighter, I watch the little flame and finally I know what I should do. I know how to get out of this hell without need to die. I know what I have to do. However, it scares me. I don´t smoke the cigarette and throw it onto the ground. I watch the flame dying with fascination, unable to look away. Now I understand what a pyromaniac feels when he watches something burn. This is very strong. After a little whileI light the fire again and put my hand above the level of the trench. I have to bite my lips not to scream – I feel the taste of my own blood. Seconds have never been so long in my life.

_Paul_

I´m kneeling between Kat and Albert and at least for a little while I feel a bit normal. We´re having our guns leaned against the ground, aiming at the second half of the front, but we don´t really pay attention. We´re chatting, smoking and trying to pretend this is not just a way to manage our fear. Some weapon has broken or fouled so listen to terrible sounds of men, desperately trying to fix it up. We´re telling those stupid things we´ve all told each other many times before. And just when Albert tells the story about how he once stole some banknote from our teacher´s pocket, I notice something. A little, tiny yellow light, only and inch or two above the ground. I take the gun and fire – I don´t think about it, I just do it. I have a target so I want to hit it.

_Thomas_

I´m waiting. The time goes by terribly slowly, it´s torturing. I feel as if somebody has frozen this moment, just because of me. I want to put the hand down, to hide it, to spare it. I wish I could put the hand down, but fortunately my mind is stronger than my instinct of self-preservation. And I know this is the best what I can do. It might be selfish, but I don´t care. Life has never given me anything for nothing, I worked hard for everything I have. And I´m not giving it to somebody else. I don´t feel like a coward. If somebody thinks what I do is spineless, he didn´t try to hold a hand exposed to enemy´s guns. And finally, the relief comes. I´m so ecstatic I can´t but laugh a little. I take my now bleeding hand, hide it on my chest and try to slow my breathing down, not very successfully. It hurts, it hurts like nothing before, but the pain can´t beat the euphoria that I can´t be here. I can leave. I can leave this hell. I can go home!

_Paul_

The light has disappeared so I suppose I either hit the person who was so stupid to hold it so exposed or he just saw that I fired and realised he should hide. I don´t care. Why should I? Kat is telling some story now and Albert is smiling into his hand. He´s chuckling, shaking with laughter, but even in those little bits of happiness we have to stay soldiers – we have to be silent and make sure nobody noticec us. Even this was taken away from us. I don´t think about this. I´m not strong enough. So I listen to Kat and try to pretend everything´s alright.

_Thomas_

I thank. I don´t know whom but I thank. Not God. I don´t believe in God. But I thank the soldier who shot me, I thank his weapon, I thank the stars that they have hidden today so the light was so visible. I crawl somewhere in the safety where I can try to do something with my hand. Everything´s going to be better. Now, when I can escape.


End file.
